


Not Your Average Twink

by hyperion



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Jailbait - Freeform, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Rimming, Sexual Content, Size Difference, Size Kink, Spanking, Twink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-23
Updated: 2011-05-23
Packaged: 2017-11-15 09:33:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/525822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hyperion/pseuds/hyperion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur is the brattiest twink in bar. Maybe the world.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not Your Average Twink

**Author's Note:**

> [](http://cherrybina.livejournal.com/profile)[**cherrybina**](http://cherrybina.livejournal.com/) posted a "size kink/jailbait" pic spam, and that inspired this little foray into the kinks. Original post here: <http://cherrybina.livejournal.com/222007.html> But I also wanted a little more experienced Arthur, and I ended up with this which took very unexpected turns.

“Who is that?” Eames asked the bar patron he was chatting with.

The other man followed his line of sight, shrugged, and said, “Don’t even bother.”

“Don’t even bother? How the bloody hell am I supposed to let a twink like that walk by and not even bother?” Eames crushed his cigarette out in the ash tray and reached for his beer. He ran the bottle between his palms as he watched the kid make his way around the bar. “I’m bothered just looking at him.”

Bradley, the man Eames had befriended, pretended like he was not affected by the boy. “His name is Arthur. He’s probably underage. My friend Charlie said he heard Arthur tell someone that he was nineteen, but I heard he was really seventeen. Probably sucked the bouncer to get in. You know how _they_ are,” he said, meaning twinks, “And he’s even worse.”

“He turn you down, Bradley?” Eames asked, mockingly sympathetic.

“Fuck yeah. He’s the biggest tease I’ve ever seen. If he decides you’re worthy of his attention, he never follows through. My friend Sean said he heard that Arthur isn’t even gay. Not even bisexual. Sean’s buddy Clark told Sean that Arthur told Clark’s boyfriend that he’s really into pussy, but he likes coming here for attention. Fucking twinks, man.”

Eames put his beer down and took his eyes off Arthur, who was pointedly ignoring a guy’s clumsy attempts to chat him up. “Have you ever heard any of this from Arthur himself?”

“No. He’s not very sociable.”

“He’s not very sociable, but he talked to your friend’s friend’s boyfriend long enough to confess that he’s actually straight.”

“Yeah…” Bradley slowly admitted.

“So basically, he turns you down once and you decide to believe what people have overheard or have been told instead of just asking Arthur yourself?”

Bradley snorted. “And here I thought I liked you.”

Eames caught the bartender’s attention, which wasn’t easy considering that at least three men were trying to order drinks for Arthur. “He’s like the supertwink,” he muttered to himself. And then, “Whatever he wants next,” to the bartender, indicating Bradley.

Eames left Bradley with his drink and made his way to Arthur, shouldering lesser men out of the way. Arthur was turned toward another patron, so Eames approached him from behind. He leaned casually on the counter, his arm nearly touching Arthur’s, and he marveled at how much thicker his forearm was compared to Arthur’s.

“I’ve heard some stories about you,” he rumbled into Arthur’s ear.

Arthur’s head turned to him immediately, eyes narrowed at first but quickly widening. “What kind of stories?” he asked, and that cut off the conversation he was having with the other man as Arthur turned on the barstool and faced Eames completely.

“Oh, you’ve probably heard of them already: Underage, sucking the bouncer off, not even gay.”

Arthur put his hand on Eames’ shoulder and lightly traced the length of his arm. “Does any of that matter to you?”

Eames considered it. “Well, I’d rather not rot in an American prison.”

Arthur continued to touch Eames, cupping his hand to Eames’ pectoral muscle and squeezing lightly. His eyes were half-closed and he was biting his lip. “Aren’t I worth the risk?”

Smiling predatorily, Eames leaned closer. “Do you really think I’m just another one of your many admirers? That you can seduce me and string me along just so you can cut me loose whenever it pleases you?”

“And what makes you any different from any other guy in this bar?”

Eames pulled Arthur off his barstool until he was standing, pressed against Eames’ body. Eames was surprised that Arthur was only an inch or two shorter than he was, because Arthur seemed much smaller. “I’ll suck your cock, I’ll give you the rimming of your life, and I’ll fuck you on every horizontal surface within reach and even some vertical ones. But I won’t play games with a spoiled little brat.”

“You aren’t the first man to call me a brat,” Arthur sniffed.

“No. But I’ll be the first person to bend you over this bar and spank you for being one.”

For the first time all evening, Arthur blushed. He looked down quickly and turned away, attempting to cut off his conversation with Eames as easily as he had stopped the previous conversation when Eames approached him. Eames wrapped his arms around him, enveloping Arthur’s body and holding him still so he could murmur into his ear.

“Would you like that, pet? All this fawning was fun when it started, but now it’s gotten a little boring, hasn’t it? I bet you’ve been looking for someone to stand up to you, and now that you have it, you don’t know what to do with yourself. Wouldn’t you love it if I showed everyone in this room exactly what you need?”

Arthur looked at all the men staring at him, leering at him. Even those who spent their time pretending not to notice him were now openly gawking. They were like sharks. None of them had been brave enough to attack Arthur individually, but now they sensed that a bigger predator was about to draw blood. “I’ll never be able to come back here,” Arthur realized.

“That depends on if you put your hands on the bar.”

“Fuck them,” Arthur decided and reached for the bar.

Eames held Arthur’s wrists on the bar and unbuttoned Arthur’s pants with the other. He pulled the pants just below Arthur’s butt. Men pushed forward to get a better view. Eames could barely extend his arm. “Anyone who doesn’t want to get slapped should back up.” He stared them down until they took a few steps back. He saw Bradley peering over a man’s shoulder and Eames winked at him.

The first smack was loud but did not hurt Arthur. “If that’s all you’ve got, you’re wasting my time.”

“Just wait, crumpet.” When Arthur’s bottom was beginning to feel warm, Eames stepped up the force. Arthur was starting to moan now and push up for Eames’ hand. Eames continued to hold him down, even though he knew Arthur was not going anywhere. He gave Arthur a few more of these pleasurable swats before giving him one designed to hurt.

Arthur cried out and jerked against Eames, getting a round of applause from those watching. Eames gave him another and Arthur cursed at him. After a third, hard enough to make Arthur’s eyes water, Eames pulled Arthur’s pants up and stood him up, drawing Arthur under his arm. Arthur rubbed his eyes quickly. “You son of a bitch.”

“Now, now, darling, not in front of our guests.” There were a few rude comments thrown out by the spectators, most promising rougher treatment and bigger cocks. “Shall we leave, or would you rather be left to the ravening crowd?”

“I believe you owe me a rimjob.”

Eames hustled Arthur out of the bar, barreling his way through the crowd like he expected everyone to move for him. They did, and Arthur realized that Eames was either seriously badass or just good at playing the part. He seemed to enjoy performing this, flexing his muscles just enough, glaring just right to move people.

Eames was staying at a hotel near the bar. “In town on business,” he explained in the elevator.

“What kind of business?”

“Acting. Very famous British actor, I am. You wouldn’t know it over here, though. What about you? You got a job you have to go to in the morning, or do you live off the free booze and welcome beds of your fawning fans?”

“Just graduated from high school and enlisted.”

Eames guided Arthur to his door and let him in. “I put a few years into the military, myself. Glad to be free of it. Means I have more time to corrupt boys like you.”

Arthur stripped on the way to the bed, no finesse needed. Eames waited at the door, watching Arthur’s slender hips sway and gluteal muscles move as he stepped up to the bed and crawled on. He lay on his back, grinning at Eames with a hand on his cock, pumping it slowly. “You’d better get started on that corruption,” Arthur mocked. “I’m already way ahead of you.”

Eames began taking off his clothes too, feeling smug when the hand on Arthur’s cock paused as Arthur took him in. Where Arthur was long, lean lines, a nipped waist, and not an ounce of meat to spare, Eames was just thick and powerful with a strongman-type body. As much as Eames loved a good twink, Arthur loved the sheer magnitude of Eames. Arthur bit his lip again, and this time, Eames believed it.

The bed dipped under Eames’ weight, and Arthur opened his thighs in invitation. “I don’t even know your name,” Arthur said as Eames pressed his lips to Arthur’s neck.

“It’s Eames, love.”

“Eames,” Arthur tried out as Eames devoured him, moving down Arthur’s body mouth first. Arthur shivered at the feel of Eames’ plush lips at his ribs, a little bit ticklish. Eames seemed to pick up on it, nipping the skin there, but Arthur pushed his head down. “Come on.”

Eames moved lower, but bit Arthur’s inner thigh in retaliation. It was hard enough to bruise and Arthur nearly kneed Eames in the head at the sharp pain. Eames quickly soothed Arthur by settling his thighs on Eames’ shoulders and burying his face in Arthur. Arthur began tugging on his cock again, marveling that Eames’ neck was a thick as his own thighs.

The sight only heightened Arthur’s arousal when Eames’ lips and then tongue touched him. Eames traced the little pucker with his tongue, feeling it flex against the stimulation. He used broad strokes to get the muscle to relax, working a hand under Arthur’s thigh so that he could massage Arthur’s perineum with his thumb. Though the prostate stimulation had Arthur’s shuddering in pleasure, Arthur’s hole relaxed against Eames’ mouth and he pushed inside.

Arthur arched up at the sensation, gasping, heels digging into Eames’ back. Eames fucked in and out of Arthur, sometimes pulling out for a few moments to drag his tongue around the rim again before plunging back in. Arthur was soon panting and keening, and when he cried out, “Eames! Eames!” Eames stopped. “What? Why?” Arthur panted, so close to coming that he could have sworn he had already tipped over the edge.

Eames left the bed long enough to find his wallet and pull out a condom. He was back between Arthur’s legs and had the condom on before Arthur could think about finishing up with his own hand. Arthur reached for Eames and Eames pulled him up, put his arm around Arthur’s waist and pulled him close again. “Lube?”

“I’m fine,” Arthur said impatiently, wanting everything right now. It took a moment, but Eames was able to manhandle Arthur onto his dick. Arthur groaned as he slipped down on Eames’ cock, legs wrapped around Eames’ waist and hands scrabbling for purchase on enormous shoulder.

When he was seated in Eames’ lap, Arthur gave his hips an experimental roll. Eames kissed him to swallow the whimper that bubbled up. When they broke apart, Eames put his hands on Arthur’s hips and guided him into a rhythm. It was easy for Arthur to grind down onto Eames, and he grabbed the other man’s flexing arms so that he could have a little more control, not that Eames was allowing him much.

Though it could not have been easy for him, Eames helped Arthur lift himself high so that he could be deeply penetrated again and again. Arthur’s own cock was rubbing against the hard wall of Eames’ abdomen, and he leaned back slightly to angle his hips better. Eames took advantage of his position to suck Arthur’s nipple, mouth slipping with the rise and fall of Arthur’s bucks so that his stubble burned the sensitive skin slightly.

Arthur did not care. He was at the point where everything made him hotter. His orgasm was rising up again, and Eames was close too, grinding Arthur down onto his lap. When Arthur’s breath began to hitch, when he gasped out Eames’ name again, Eames bit savagely onto his nipple and Arthur’s orgasm crashed over him. His cries were soon joined by Eames’, the other man’s hips snapping as he emptied himself inside of Arthur.

Arthur was sleepy and pliant after he came, letting Eames maneuver him back onto the bed. After Eames had cleaned up, he spooned Arthur and they both fell asleep. Halfway through the night, Arthur woke Eames up for more, this round going quickly. When Arthur woke up in the morning, he was alone in Eames’ hotel room. There was a note on the bed.

_The job was over yesterday. Gone back to England. Room’s paid up for another day if you want._

_You were lovely._   
_E._

He felt something strange in his chest, reading that. He was angry that Eames had left him without even saying goodbye, without even waking him up. Arthur left the hotel as soon as he was dressed. A quick search on the Internet told Arthur that Eames was no famous British actor, and that was something to wonder about. But life went on and Arthur had a job to do, and he hardly thought about Eames over the next four years.

“This is Arthur,” Cobb said as he brought in a forger for this job.

Arthur looked up just as the man said, “Arthur? I’ve heard some stories about you.”

“You son of a bitch,” Arthur hissed. “How could you just leave me a note?”

“To be fair,” Eames defended himself, “I did at least kiss you goodbye.”

“Doesn’t count if I don’t remember it,” Arthur argued.

“I’ve always remembered, darling.”

That was as much of an apology as Arthur would get, and neither of them would tell Cobb how they knew each other. Later that night, Arthur pulled an envelope out of cigar box that had a few odds and ends in it. He opened it and reread Eames’ note. “God, I hate him,” he murmured.


End file.
